


Happy Haunting

by Lunaraen



Category: MCSM, Minecraft Story Mode
Genre: Amnesia, Magical Accidents, Magical Realism, Possession, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:51:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunaraen/pseuds/Lunaraen
Summary: The Order only usually has to worry about petty squabbles and teasing when it comes to who gets loot. Petra fainting and having amnesia again is a new one.





	Happy Haunting

It's never anything as simple as a broken leg, the flu, or a sprained wrist. It couldn't possibly be a normal cold, or a headache, or insomnia that wasn't fueled by trauma or terrible nightmares that required more help than a potion or paste.

Ivor's job would be a lot easier if it ever were.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The potential complications of his role as healer, many of which are unexpectedly emotional in nature, are not helped by how much of a comedian Petra seems to think she is.

Her dedication to one joke is admittedly admirable.

(It's not a joke he's fond of, given how much it reminds him of how her amnesia and pain had been his fault, caused by his monster, pain and confusion that slowly sapped away at Gabriel's will, pain and confusion inflicted on who knows how many more people, but Ivor's well past the point of not liking it through the sheer tedium.)

Still, Petra's humor is often tied directly to her sense of how much she doesn't want others to worry, though being lightheaded might have something to do with it this time.

"Charming." Ivor rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair, both unwilling to go through with her overused, poor excuse for comedy, and relieved that she's awake and aware enough to have such poor humor shine through. "Contrary to what you might think, it really isn't as funny to hear the fifth time."

"No, seriously, _who_ the fuck are you?"

She never manages to repeat it without laughing, or cracking a wide grin, if she even bothers to keep pushing it at all, but there's no humor to her voice this time, no smile to be found in the tight frown.

He raises an eyebrow.

Petra's eyes narrow further, the glare more frightened and nervous than it is heated, one of her hands tightly gripping her wrist as her body seems to curve more into itself.

Lovely.

"...I see." His gaze is slow, controlled enough to keep it from seeming shifty or as frantic as the bubbling unease in his core would like him to be, as it moves from Petra to Jesse, the only other person he allowed to be in the room in order to give Petra plenty of breathing room while letting at least one of the others be there to greet her. He lifts a hand, having to actively fight to keep its movements from being sluggish as he points to Jesse. There's a twisted humor, he's sure, in how his gaze fights to be wild and erratic while his body feels numb and heavy, but he's had enough of poor humor. "Do you recognize her?"

Jesse's eyes are widened slightly when Petra looks to her, Jesse's smile warm but the rest of her expression not quite yet smoothly shifted from her previously open alarm.

The wave she gives is small and quick, smile widening and stretching enough to let a sliver of her teeth show for just a moment, and while Ivor wouldn't expect it to be calming, Jesse's the better of them when it comes to soothing others and being friendly with people in tense situations.

"...nope. I didn't even know there was anybody standing there, so that's nice and creepy. Uh, hey." Petra's wave is weak, little more than her raising her hand with a lingering glance in Jesse's direction before gripping her arm once more, gaze shifting between Jesse and Ivor. If she has anything more to say, even solely out of a desire to break the awkward silence, she doesn't act on it.

Jesse doesn't either, meaning that, once again, it's up to Ivor.

He's very, very tired of today, and it's little consolation that they've finally reached the afternoon.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

The sound she makes is almost too gentle to be a growl, quiet and weak, and there's a lack of any bite to how her eyes narrow.

"Y'know I'm expecting to get a whole lot of answers from you too, right?" Her tone's dry, expression relaxing as she glances down at her fingers, busy drumming them against the table as she shrugs. "...I remember it being dark, and I heard voices. I- we were moving? I think? It felt like I was tied up."

The last part is pointed and Ivor's huff is its own bitter chuckle, though it takes half a moment to realize that it doesn't relax Petra the way it once did, invites no bickering or exasperation on her part.

He'll give her credit; it's a powerful glare.

The smile he gives is as genuine as the huff, but better controlled, easier to mold to be more clear about his intentions.

Gentle, less sarcastic, not patronizing but not threatening.

"You were brought here on horseback. From the sound of it, Axel had a decent grip on you, and you'd been bundled in blankets to keep you from growing cold."

When Ivor points to the pile of blankets sitting on the floor beside the table, her gaze is reluctant to follow.

She doesn't argue, though, and her shoulders relax as she looks back up at him.

"That's also sort of the first and _only_ thing I remember too. I feel like I should have a lot more than just that. What's an 'Axel'?"

"He's a fr- person you know." Convincing her that she likes them and is meant to feel safe here in their temple, her home, will take more than calling people she can't recall friends and brushing off her paranoia of having been attacked and tied up. "The reason you don't know who he is right now is because you have amnesia. Congratulations, you've somehow managed to once again snatch the title of 'sudden amnesiac'."

"What's amnesia?" She pauses, her frown seemingly not directed at him this time as she looks away, brow furrowing and her nose scrunched. "And why do I feel like I really shouldn't have to ask?"

"Amnesia refers to losing your memories- feeling like you know how to do things or what some things are without remembering how you learned about them in the first place." She doesn't say anything to that, which is fair. For all she knows, he's lying, but he doubts she has any better explanations for her patchy memory, or overall lack thereof. "First rule of mining."

Her response is almost instant, words certain if short, and there's a confident humor to them that's been missing so far, the most Petra-like thing he's heard from her.

"Never dig straight down." A pause. Then, a frown, her head tilting to the side as she shrugs, upper lip curling as she watches him, gaze distasteful and unsure all at once. "I can't tell you why _that's_ the first rule, though."

"Exactly, but any miner, or anyone who's ever held a pick or shovel, could."

"I don't think it's supposed to make my head hurt."

"Usually not." Ivor reaches into his bag, absently rearranging several of the vials and corked bottles before retrieving two small healing potions. Glancing up before he straightens lets him know that Petra's still intently watching him, her brow furrowed more but the rest of her expression less pinched. "That rule's because of lava flows and underground chasms, if you were wondering."

"What's lava?"

He nearly drops one of the vials, fingers belatedly curling tighter around it as he presses them into Petra's hands, not letting go until he's sure she's holding them.

"Alright, and it seems there are some things you've just forgotten entirely." He smiles, perhaps a bit too wide with too forced a chuckle as he meets Jesse's gaze, both of them glancing at each other, before he looks back to Petra. "It's not unexpected. You were the same way the last time you had amnesia. This time, we have better access to healing potions. When you drink those, that should help with the pain."

He wonders how much pain she was in last time, how much he could've helped but didn't. Would it have mattered if she spoke up?

Would he have been too bitter to do anything other than look down on her for it and try not to let the guilt consume him, the way he tried and failed at the time to keep from being slowly eaten alive by the earned guilt that came with Ellegaard's death?

It doesn't matter. It just feels like it does.

"Last time?" Petra fiddles with one of the corks, twisting it absently before tugging it out, glancing up at him again before peering down at the potion, one eye closed and the other squinting as she swishes the potion just enough to make the concoction bubble and froth. "So, is this like... a me thing? Or a regular thing?"

"It's very much not." Ivor snorts, flicking the bag shut as Petra empties the vial, hesitating before she tilts it back. It doesn't last long, though there doesn't have to be much for it to be strong, and she's grimacing before she begins drinking the second one more quickly. "But you do seem to have that sort of luck. The last time was far more complicated; you were terribly sick, and it wasn't until the Witherstorm was killed that your memory returned."

Petra mulls that over as she plays with the now empty vials between her fingers, the way she often plays with them after needing potions, probably trying to decide which questions she ought to bother asking.

Her fingers still as the glass begins to slip, and her movements are more stiff, rigid once again as she quickly sets them down beside her on the bed.

While she does, Ivor's gaze trails to the necklace she's wearing, no doubt looted from the ruins they'd entered, and he wonders just how he forgot to take it off when he was removing her armor, worried about her vitals and potential poisoning or other causes of fainting.

...actually, the panic and over-bubbling of feared potentials probably had something to do with him not bothering to mess with something as trivial as a trinket that wasn't obstructing any examinations.

Still, looking at it now, he can't believe he hardly spared it a thought, practically overlooking it.

It shines brighter than the lighting or even more colorful glow of nearby potions should allow, glinting warmly in a way that all but demands attention.

He can't imagine how he missed it.

Granted, Ivor can't imagine how he's begun to hold the pendant before even realizing his hand has moved, that his fingers are curling around warmed metal.

Given that Petra's been wearing it, it's no surprise that it's warm.

What is surprising is the way it thrums, pulses beneath his fingers in the brief moment before Petra herself shoves his hand away.

The wordless snarl is deep and quick, sharper than a growl and with more barbs, and Petra doesn't even seem aware of it herself, expression melting back to curiosity as he pulls his hand back and as her own falls back to her side.

She doesn't seem aware of how her eyes respond either, not that it's surprising when she doesn't seem to have registered her own growl. Ivor's aware of it, though, all too aware of how her eyes flash with light not their own, narrowed and burning with energy that demands attention, bright and powerful and somehow dim in comparison to the fire and determination normally burning in Petra's eyes.

Beyond the more emotional, spiritual comparisons, her eyes also flash with actual light, pale and ghostly and as quick as the snarl, looking almost more like a warning flare or thrum of magic.

Ah, lovely. It couldn't just be a relapse or regular amnesia, could it?

"Well, if killing a- a whatever you said fixed it before, can't you just... kill it again?"

He takes a bit too long to respond, staring at her and utterly lost before remembering that they have been carrying out a conversation, up until this point.

"I'm afraid that's no longer an option to us." Ivor gets to his feet, nearly bouncing with what he hopes seems like optimism instead of alarm. "However, I do have a few ideas for how to handle this."

Jesse's watching them now, no longer busy staring at her hands, but there's no alarm to her expression, no fear like Ivor's busy shoving aside. With their luck, she didn't see it, maybe only heard the snarl, but Ivor's more than willing to fill her in.

After all, he has his fair share of questions to ask her.

However, the time and place are not here and not now, not in the infirmary with Petra looking more lost than scared and Ivor desperately trying to remember passages from texts older than their world itself. He'll just have to remedy the setting a bit.

"Ah, Jesse, you were there when Petra passed out. I'd like to ask you a few more questions, just so I can narrow our options down to something realistically helpful. Do you mind if we step out for a minute?"

The last part, directed at Petra yet again, is almost sickeningly sweet in how it’s said, but it’s too late to take it back.

Lucky for them, she seems more bothered by the idea than the tone.

"...sure? I mean, you're coming back, right?"

Too innocent, too insecure.

(Too Petra? Or too clearly misleading, too obviously crafted to capture his attention and soften his guard?)

"Right. Just sit tight- and _don't_ touch anything."

It's as quick a relaxed exit as Ivor can make, though his own hastiness is easily tempered by how he and Jesse have to pause in the doorway, waiting for the others to back up enough from where they'd been eavesdropping to let the two of them out into the hallway.

They have the decency to not fake sudden regret and look ashamed, sheepish as their smiles may be.

That's alright. He has the decency to not look surprised.

Ivor prods Jesse to the side, not closing the door behind them fully even as he motions for the rest of them to move away from it.

It may be a dangerous game to play, making it easier for it to hear them, but he'd much rather be able to hear Petra moving should she try anything, and he's had enough practice by this point to nearly master the art of being scathingly quiet while still very much scathing.

And the rest of them have had the practice to follow his lead when he lowers his voice so much.

"I thought Harper was exaggerating when she said you'd all get into trouble without proper supervision." The issue is, as accurate a statement as it is, it only leaves them chastised to the point they'd have expected from going on an adventure only to bring back an unconscious teammate. They all certainly look like they've felt bad enough about that aspect. It might even be fitting for an amnesiac teammate. All the same, it's not fitting for their current dilemma, and they have the right to know it just as much as Ivor has the right to not be the only one ridiculously worried. "So, _when_ did Petra go and get herself possessed, exactly?"

Jesse blinks at him before grinning widely, all teeth and somehow double the nervous energy he thought she could have.

He misses Harper. Her advice cuts through confusion the way his own thoughts don't, her knowledge would undoubtedly be a bonus in this situation, and the general support would be greatly appreciated.

Ideally, they'll have this little matter taken care of by the time she returns from her latest community project for Crown Mesa, and she won't have to worry about it.

He misses and envies her.

"...please tell me you're kidding and that I'm not supposed to actually answer that?" Ivor doesn't bother reacting in any way, arms remaining crossed over his chest as his gaze stays unimpressed and solely on Jesse. "Oh, great. Just now? Or, well, just before we left the ruins, when she passed out?"

"I'd rather say that's not Petra at all, if only because that makes pest control much easier." He knows better than to think a creature capable of mimicking another's form will be easy to finish off, but there would certainly be less emotional baggage or ethical concerns about, say, tricking it into drinking a fatal potion or slicing its head off while its back was turned. "But I'm fairly certain it's still her. Most mimics are... shoddy at best, and rather grotesque at worst. Given that she has the right number of limbs, fingers, eyes, and that her scars seem to be exactly the same, possession's more likely. The thing's using her as a vessel, of sorts. It might be aware and might have wiped her memory, or it might be pretending, or it might not know much of anything itself either. Possessions tend to be much more trouble than they're worth."

He has little firsthand experience with them, though not none, and what he lacks in personal experience has been more than made up by the flurry of warnings in any book or scroll detailing anything remotely related to possession.

"How could it possess her? Or, why Petra, and not all of us?" Ivor chokes off the snide remark before it can enter his throat or think to reach his treacherous tongue.

He may be tired and as unhappy as them about this, but those are fair questions and it would be pointless to snap at or blame Lukas for asking. The closest experience any of them have to such a situation, especially Lukas, is PAMA, and its constant desire for domination and expansion had been a bit of a theme.

"I don't suppose you found five of those necklaces, did you?"

Any follow-up questions seem to die then and there, realization mixed with regret, and he's further content with his decision to be more manageably snarky.

"We weren't even expecting to find one. We probably would've missed it if Lukas hadn't found a hidden chest." It could easily be phrased as an accusation, as pinning the blame on Lukas for inviting this trouble into their team, this entity into their friend and home, but Olivia sounds quiet and more factual than anything, nearly nonchalant even as one of her hands tugs on her hair while the other tightly grips her arm.

Lukas still looks like he expects Ivor to blame him; lucky for him, Ivor hasn't the time to entertain the notion, or half the stomach for it. Even if he did, a fight is the last thing they need, and he'd never solely blame Lukas for such a matter.

(The borrowed quills Lukas hasn't returned are a different issue, but even that can be handled in a direct but civilized manner and at a more appropriate time.)

"Was there anything else in that chest?"

"Not anything more than a few cobwebs and a layer of dust." Lukas rubs the back of his neck, half smile weak even as his voice falls lower and he clears his throat. "I, uh, I probably would've put it on if Petra hadn't."

"You mean if you two hadn't fought over it until Jesse made you knock it off."

Bickering is regular enough to be worth immediate reporting, but Ivor wonders how he's only hearing this part now, as Lukas's ears pinken to the point of rivaling Petra's hair in color.

"We weren't fighting."

Lukas's own silent plea to Jesse, his eyes wide and too forcibly innocent, is met with nothing but a weak shrug.

"You guys were getting pretty riled up."

"Oh, come on, that's just how Petra is. She's super competitive."

"Like you aren't?" Axel has a point, the verbal nudge said quietly and as gently as anything else, though Ivor doubts there are any of them are missing at least a slight tendency for being competitive. Perhaps to illustrate that point, while Lukas's face returns to something of a more normal color, his eyes narrow as he weakly glares up at Axel. It's a more wounded look than anything, and Ivor's beginning to wonder if the heightened tension is helped any by this possession business.

(The emotional fallout is sure to be a mess, however this goes.)

Olivia doesn't let Lukas argue that one, stopping a squabble between him and Axel before it can begin, and if Ivor has half his sanity after this ordeal, he'll be sure to thank her for it. An extra healing potion ought to do.

"Lukas, you insulted her sword and said she was just confused and ungrateful. And cocky."

"Only because _she_ called me a hack and said my books only sold well because I was milking our fame and riding your guys' coattails-" Lukas, still whispering even as he begins to hiss, pauses, wincing as his posture slumps and visibly loses steam. "Okay, yeah, it got kind of heated."

His smile is once again sheepish as his shoulders slump and he combs his fingers through his hair, other hand hanging limp at his side, suddenly rather interested in watching his shoes scuff the floor.

"Only kind of?"

"Well, it's nice knowing we only said that stuff because of whatever was in that pendant." Lukas’s hand pauses before falling past his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. "...I probably should've realized it was cursed before Petra passed out."

"Nobody else did." Jesse touches his shoulder, voice as gentle as her movements. Ivor knows better than to hope she doesn’t blame herself. Her smile weakens, doing a poor job of looking any less guilty as she looks back to Ivor, voice stronger but no louder. "Petra gloated for a little bit, but it was just teasing and it didn't last long anyway, not after she collapsed onto Axel."

"Hey, better me than the floor. Maybe those bricks were a million years old, but they were still rough and solid. I don't know if Petra'd really care about the blood stains, but fainting sucks enough with getting a concussion or cracking your head open."

It's an unpleasant mental image, even if the damage would likely be limited to less drastic consequences than that by Petra's helmet.

(Ivor may just give them all extra healing potions after this.

They certainly seem to have earned it.)

"So Lukas and Petra fought over an oddly shiny piece of jewelry almost _immediately_ after finding it, becoming uncharacteristically surly and cruel, and Petra passed out only a few minutes after donning it?"

"If you're trying to say it was obvious that the necklace was cursed..."

"Yeah, we know, we're getting that."

(For as dry as his words are, as slow and sarcastic as he feels his tone has the right to be without being overly mocking, Ivor's not sure he can blame them.

They clearly knew something was wrong when she passed out.

They clearly weren't comfortable with the bickering.

They just also didn't find it so uncharacteristic that Petra and Lukas easily turned on each other, and given the nature of their past few arguments, Ivor doesn't blame them.

He's also not sure what that says.

What it means, when he knows he wouldn't have thought much odd about Lukas and Petra bickering, not even when it took a turn into being nasty and sharp. Maybe he's more used to the idea that friends can turn on each other. Maybe they're all just a little more used to Petra and Lukas growing snippier with each other than they once were, barbs jagged and hooked as personally cutting insults and snide comments have overtaken gentler teasing.

All friends fight; it's just not comforting that every group Ivor's seen has undergone a schism of some sort. It's even less comforting when he considers how Lukas already knows the pain of losing dear friends, how Petra's been lonely enough in the past to never want to return to that. They should know better.

Once, he thought they did.

It's disturbing, but not as disturbing as the possessed warrior still sitting on the examination table, one door away in a room filled with some of his best and most powerful potions.

Craning his neck to peer into the room, the door left cracked open just enough to let him view the table, Ivor's lips tug into a frown as Petra begins- well, as her current host begins swinging its legs, still perched right where she was left. The expression may be more curious than Petra's normally is, but the pose is familiar, even more so as its fingers begin drumming lightly against the table the way hers always do when she's in for her checkups, or dragged in by someone else for treatment of her wounds.

Familiar, unexpected, and fully disturbing.)

"How do we fix it?"

"If I took over somebody's body, and if it was as big a pain as Ivor makes it out to be, I wouldn't want people to just shove me back out." Axel's grin is brief but wide, toothy and slightly maniacal, matching the brief glint in his eye as he looks to the rest of them. "They'd have to fight me for it."

The smile weakens once Olivia nudges his ribs, the jab itself quick and as short lived as the grin.

Spoken like a true griefer king.

(There'd been a time when Ivor had thought Magnus an oddity, even among griefers. He's since learned well that Magnus was just part of one particular, peculiar breed.)

"Quite. It won't just hand her body back over if we ask nicely. However, it reacted poorly when I attempted to touch the pendant." Poorly may be an understatement, but an entity wishing to fit in would have no reason to overreact if the necklace wasn't important to it in some way. "Getting it away from her may be the best, or only, solution we have. The question then, of course, is if taking the cursed item from her will transfer the curse."

"Which means...?"

"It's possible whoever manages to successfully remove the necklace will remove the spirit or entity from Petra, allowing it to either roam to a new host or be transferred into their own body."

Olivia winces, the answer likely as unpleasant as she expected to get but unpleasant all the same.

"Oh. Great."

"What if removing the necklace doesn't remove it?" Jesse's holding onto her chin, briefly biting into her finger as she glances at the others. "Or it ends up possessing all of us when it's free?"

There's a fixation on that possibility, of overwhelming and total possession, that Ivor would maybe have a harder time understanding if he didn't know how familiar they were with the terrifying idea of being controlled against their wills, if their most hated points didn't come from being unable to help each other or do anything other than watch chaos and harm unfold upon their friends, if he wasn't as horrified of the idea and as frustrated by not being able to save them.

And, frankly, Ivor knows just enough about possession to know how unreliable and hectic it can be, and he knows so little about this situation that he can't rule out the possibility.

"That's why none of you will be attempting to remove the necklace."

"What?" For all their back and forth today, it's the one question they have no problem with agreeing on, incredulous and confused enough to border on raising their voices just a bit too much.

He's quick to shush them, but they don't seem anymore understanding of his answer.

"Not right now, at least. I need to do more research, and if it's only faking being oblivious, it's certainly suspicious enough after my attempt. Don't forget that it's currently inhabiting one of the best warriors out there, one we would all rather not hurt." There's some shifting, each of them once again avoiding his gaze. They may be more understanding of his reasoning, but none of them seem particularly placated by it. "We don't need to give it more reason to act out, or to harm Petra, until we're certain removing the item will safely remove the entity."

"And if it won't...?" Lukas leans his shoulder against the wall, jacket sliding against the quartz perhaps just a bit more than he expected.

Still, he does a good job of hiding his surprise behind a raised eyebrow and lips that aren't quite twisting into a frown, and it’s yet another fair question, yet another concern they have to worry about.

Ivor wishes he had a fair answer.

"Then we'll have to figure out a compromise that's safest for everyone. Until then, we'll just have to play along."

Which is hardly comforting.

Ivor glances back at the door, waiting a few moments until he's sure everything seems as he left it. Close enough to his expectations, at least, Petra not having gotten to her feet even as she continues to fidget and look around, seemingly far more interested in her surroundings than the hushed whispers she hopefully can't hear. Curiosity seems so innocent, but it goes hand in hand with strategizing and plotting.

Ivor sighs, expression softening as he looks at the others, well aware his smile is weak and strained but still a smile, still as gentle and warm as his voice becomes.

"Don't look so miserable. You're heroes of how many worlds now? You know how to be careful." He stretches his arms out in front of him, fingers interlocked and palms facing away from his body as he straightens up, knuckles popping as quietly as his back before his hands return to his sides. "Now, the rest of you can start trickling in. It'll be expecting some company, if it thinks we're really her friends."

If that's all it suspects, then it hardly knows anything at all.

They're her family, as much as she's theirs, and its influence on them has been wholly unwelcome and undesired, just like its current residence in Petra.

Ivor huffs again as he opens the door, muttering to himself as Jesse gently pushes past him and Axel follows suit, their steps more cautious than the hurried scuttle away from the door had been just minutes ago.

Ivor's words are grumbled and low enough that he can hardly hear himself over the others' footsteps and his own, hardly hear himself over Axel and Jesse's friendly but not too forced introductions, hardly hear himself over the theories and ideas beginning to take root in his mind.

"Gods know we've certainly faced worse than a dangerous amnesiac."


End file.
